Welcome home

Last night after two grueling days of flights, I finally arrive in Antigua. I stepped off the plane onto the tarmack and thought I'd entered a sauna. It was dark and I followed the other passengers into a dimly lit building where customs was located. Getting through with little trouble, I went outside to meet whoever was coming to pick me up. In the dark I could make out swaying palm trees and far away lights, but all I could see in the yellow shadows of the airport building was a few taxi drivers and some rusted dollys that served as luggage carts. My bag had been searched and the bags of rice and granola opened, rice and oats through everything. I squatted down next to my bag and prayed that someone would show up. I couldn't see a pay phone, but even if there was one, did I know who to call? Did I know where I was going? (The answer to both those questions is no, by the way.)
"Is someone coming to pick you up from the medical school?" A worried Indian man asked me.
"Yes!"
"Well, my son is going there too."
They were from Chicago. Even though they were taciturn and too exhausted to be friendly, I was relieved to have their company. We discussed what to do when it became apparent our ride wasn't showing up.
I closed my eyes and dreamt off a hot cup of tea, and wondered if anything was missing from my bag. I could feel a sheen of sweat on my face and my clothes felt sticky and hot.
"He's here!"
A van with the school logo on it pulled up and a man jumped out. He shook hands with my new friends from Chicago and helped us load our things into the van. I squished in the back with Vemana and we started out drive to the other side of the Island. The roads are narrowed and pot-holed, and it is a nerve-wracking experience to be going 80 miles an hour on the wrong side of the road. A few times our driver slammed on the breaks for cars or random speed bumps, but I was enraptured with the sights and smells out the window.
It smells like Africa. I felt like I was coming somewhere I'd been before, especially considering everyone else was black. They speak English... or Spanish.... or some language that they say is English, but I swear I can't understand a word of it. (Yet!)
When I arrived at the medical school after a torturously windy ride, I could smell the thick scent of blossoms in the air. We came in the drive and there was a crumbling cement sign that simply said "Welcome home." The driver gave me a key for my room and I opened the door to find a very plain room with a tin roof and- joy of all joys-- air conditioning! I am so thrilled about the air conditioning.
I opened my bag and shook the rice out of my clothes slowly, unpacking everything. Tea, what I wouldn't do for a cup of tea. There was a microwave and a little fridge and I plugged them in a put tap water in a mug in the microwave. I turned it on and it immediately blew a fuse. Oh, dear. I moved the microwave to another socket and turned off the fridge and light so I could use it. After a few false starts, it worked. I had the most delicious tepid cup of tea in the world, albeit in the dark.
I had been told not to get discouraged with how it looked at night, so I went to bed telling myself that in the morning it was going to look fantastic. I was awoken in the night by a sound like a train crashing into the side of the building. I leapt out of bed and rushed to the window. Hurricane! It was as if the sky had opened up. The noise of the rain on the tin roof was deafening and the palm trees in the yard were bending over. Then a few minutes later, it stopped. I lay back down in bed and tried to fall asleep. A couple of hours later, again! I jumped up again, sure that this time the roof of my room was going to blow off. Again, it only lasted a few minutes.
This morning I got up to the sounds of goats bleating and birds chirping. I went outside into the sauna and sat in the shade, taking in the sight of bright pink flowers, little lizards, sun-bleached rocks and dilapidated old or half-built buildings.
This summer I heard a man speak and he said "Do you want adventure? Do what God says, when he says it, and don't rationalize it. That's adventure."
I thought about that last night. I'm here because God said to come. If I started rationalizing I'd go crazy, because it doesn't make sense. I'm here in the rainiest hurricane season, the hottest month. And it's a pretty crazy place. I went for a walk and bumped into a guy who works here who gave me a tour around. His name is Greggy (to distinguish himself from his twin brother Greg.)
But this morning a lady stopped by to clean the room next to me and I heard her singing on the porch. I stopped, suddenly startled. She was singing a song I had only ever heard in Africa.
"Praise the Lord, sister." She said when I introduced myself to her. "God will help you pass your exams, I know he will because I will pray for you."
I feel like I'm home, and it's such an adventure.